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<title>𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨 🁡 𝐹𝑟𝑒𝑠ℎ𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟 by Adrenalineshots, sonshineandshowers, TheFibreWitch</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26502181">𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨 🁡 𝐹𝑟𝑒𝑠ℎ𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adrenalineshots/pseuds/Adrenalineshots'>Adrenalineshots</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonshineandshowers/pseuds/sonshineandshowers'>sonshineandshowers</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFibreWitch/pseuds/TheFibreWitch'>TheFibreWitch</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Domino 🁡 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Prodigal Son (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Case Fic, Digital Art, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hallucinations, Harassment, Health Emergency, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Mental Health Issues, Metafiction, Murder Mystery, Nightmares, Surrealism, Trauma, Unreliable Narrator, Video, a lot of really strange stuff that happens in altered states of consciousness, anxiousness, reader-driven</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:00:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,968</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26502181</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adrenalineshots/pseuds/Adrenalineshots, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonshineandshowers/pseuds/sonshineandshowers, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFibreWitch/pseuds/TheFibreWitch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Selecting 𝐹𝑟𝑒𝑠ℎ𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟 from the bookshelf, Malcolm travels through his own mind.</p><p>Read this story at: <a href="https://www.thedominostory.com/#freshwater">https://www.thedominostory.com/#freshwater</a></p><p>This book is one part of the Domino series. If you have not yet read the <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64577434#workskin">Preface</a> or <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64588537#workskin">Introduction</a>, please head there first.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Domino 🁡 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1926451</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Domino 🁡, Prodigal Son Big Bang 2020 - Saturday Posts</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨 🁡 𝐹𝑟𝑒𝑠ℎ𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jameena/gifts">Jameena</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissScorp/gifts">MissScorp</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProcrastinatingSab/gifts">ProcrastinatingSab</a>.</li>


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/685255">Freshwater</a> by Akwaeke Emezi.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This book is one part of the Domino series. If you have not yet read the <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64577434#workskin">Preface</a> or <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64588537#workskin">Introduction</a>, please head there first.</p><p>Betaed by the wonderful <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jameena/">Jameena</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissScorp/">MissScorp</a>, and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProcrastinatingSab/">ProcrastinatingSab</a>.</p><p>Credit to the creators and their works that inspired and were referenced in this work:<br/><b>— Inspiration: </b><a href="https://www.akwaeke.com/freshwater">Freshwater</a> - Akwaeke Emezi<br/><b>— Cover Song: </b><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V1bFr2SWP1I">Somewhere Over the Rainbow</a> - Israel Kamakawiwoʻole<br/><b>— Assets: </b><a href="https://www.pexels.com/photo/chopping-boards-near-oven-under-hood-2062426/">Stock Photo</a>, <a href="https://www.vectorstock.com/royalty-free-vector/fbi-badge-vector-24309265">Stock Photo</a>, <a href="https://www.aamsco.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/04/solutions-lightbulb-antique-hero.jpg">Stock Photo</a>, <a href="https://media.istockphoto.com/photos/harvard-university-along-the-charles-river-picture-id913395250">Stock Photo</a>, <a href="https://www.clipartmax.com/middle/m2K9A0m2Z5K9d3Z5_wedding-ring-clip-art-pictures-free-clipart-images-rings-vector/">Stock Photo</a>, <a href="https://ih1.redbubble.net/image.1095975646.9336/flat,750x,075,f-pad,750x1000,f8f8f8.jpg">Stock Photo</a>, <a href="https://www.pexels.com/photo/photography-of-bridge-during-nighttime-1239162/">Stock Photo</a>, <a href="https://creativemarket.com/pred_artem/4694038-Pills-Bottle-Mockup">Pill Bottle Template</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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<td><a href="https://www.thedominostory.com/images/full/freshwater.jpg"></a></td>
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</table><p>Malcolm's first birth was at a hospital in New York after he left one of his mother's biggest roles as host. It was the only one he didn’t have any control over, his mother naming him Malcolm Whitly and parading him around like a golden child. Instead of remaining attached to her, that forever bonded him to his father.</p><p>His second was when a police officer came through his front door, arresting his murderous father. An ending of abuse, a beginning of after. He wasn’t sure what after meant, exactly, for new traumas piled onto the old, making coping a difficult concept.</p><p>His third was practically living with the Arroyos when he wasn't at school, finding some semblance of home under their roof. When Gil and Jackie’s faces met, there were small smiles, a warmth in their eyes. Moving past each other working in the kitchen, there was always a brush of some sort, a bit of loving contact without saying a word. He wanted to to be able to hug them, thank them for all they’d given him, show them that same love in return. Someday.</p><p>His fourth was when he changed his name to Bright. Gil and Jackie threw him a small celebration in their kitchen, laughing and pulling him into an impromptu dance. The phone ringing interrupted their dinner — his mother accused him of hiding. If only it were that easy to obliterate the bond with his father.</p><p>His fifth was in Boston, sixth in Quantico. More people and places he didn’t know, more judgment as soon as they dug for his heritage. A far enough distance away to escape the physical presence of his family, yet nowhere near far enough to break The Surgeon’s grasp on his head.</p><p>Now he's on his seventh birth in New York, a collection of all his past lives and his new one hopping on for the ride, vying for dominance. Bright versus Bright versus Bright versus Bright versus Bright versus Bright versus Bright — no one wins.</p><p>No matter how many skins he sheds, he can't get rid of the parasite. They've scanned, poked, and prodded his whole body, yet still haven't found what ruins his appetite, what sucks up all the nutrients, leaving his cells without. He doesn't need to look very far — it's only a short trip to the Bronx. Adolpho could have him there in thirty minutes, tops, but he'd race to hit fifteen. Malcolm would rather head to the antipode, the opposite end of the earth, furthest away possible. Perhaps in a future life.</p><p>In this life, he can look at his arms and see his father's hair. It sways on windy days at the beach, sticks to his arms in an awful, slicked back 'do after a run. Explains shaft, gland, follicle, bulb, papilla, capillary when he's not looking. Spreads from his capillaries to race through the rest of his system.</p><p>If he pays it mind, his father's voice grows to near clot capacity. What would die first? His heart, a lung, brain, a kidney? Would he feel it? This time, the voice growls in his stomach instead — "Come see me."</p><p>A short trip to the Bronx. That's all he needs to avoid. In this life, he can do that, right?</p><p>The voice yells louder, cramping his insides. They've tested for gluten intolerance, Crohn's disease, all kinds of allergies, yet have found nothing. "<em>My boy</em>."</p><p>Malcolm doesn't want to see food. As much as he is supposed to enjoy it, its draw is lost on him. He can visualize it snaking through his system, all the goodness sucked away by the voice, the rest left to rot, cramp, decay his existence from the inside out.</p><p>"Pastrami, kid?" Gil asks, shaking half of a sandwich at him. </p><p>Lost in his head, Malcolm knows it isn't the first time Gil has asked from the crinkle of a frown at his eyes. "I'm not hungry," he says, crossing his arms over the voice in his stomach, trying to lock it inside.</p><p>Gil returns the half sandwich to his plate. "Soup? A few crackers? I can get you something else."</p><p>Malcolm shakes his head. He can't explain that he doesn't want to feed the parasite today. That he wants quiet, some semblance of peace, whatever that is.</p><p>"Will have to make you some of my cooking. Later. Tonight," Gil tacks on, his words coming out like he hasn't quite thought of the whole plan before it's out of his mouth.</p><p>"After you see me," his father's voice says, wrenching his stomach. Malcolm leans into the table, bowing his head as he attempts to collect himself.</p><p>"What's wrong, Bright?" Gil asks.</p><p>"No different than any other day," Malcolm says. It comes, it goes, he manages.</p><p>"You're in pain."</p><p>"Doctor says it's all in my head."</p><p>"Bullshit."</p><p>"Come see me — I can make it better," his father's voice says.</p><p>"<em>No</em>," Malcolm says, his father taking control and pushing him away from the table.</p><p>Gil kneels at his side, his sandwich already wrapped in moments Malcolm can't quite place. "Let's go home, kid," Gil says, and Malcolm accepts the contact at his neck. His father hisses, but the pain doesn't get any worse.</p><p>The whole ride to Gil's, his father's voice reminds him of every street they could turn down to head to Claremont Psychiatric Hospital. A hundred sets of alternate GPS directions snaking back to one epicenter. <em>Rerouting, rerouting</em> repeats in his head until Gil parks on the street and guides him into the house.</p><p>Gil reaches for the whiskey, but hesitates and pours Malcolm a glass of sparkling water instead. The bubbles mirror his insides boiling to temperature, waiting to split the host open. Malcolm stares at their travels.</p><p>"How can I help, kid?" Gil asks, and Malcolm's shoulders startle, unaware Gil had sat beside him.</p><p><em>Cut the parasite out. Slice me to bits until there's no trace of him left. End it.</em> If they cut him open, will a whole fucking python come out? Will its jaws be unhinged, ready to capture him again? "Sorry, I'm feeling weird," Malcolm says. He’s at Gil’s and only vaguely aware of how he got there.</p><p>"You don't need to be sorry. Can I get you something warm? Or your blanket? Or something relaxing?"</p><p>Even with the options narrowed down, Malcolm's not quite sure what to do. His body is shutting down, curling in on itself in the living room.</p><p>"Let's put you in the sun," Gil says, deciding for him and pulling the papasan chair Malcolm is sitting in a few feet into the sunlight streaming through the window. Malcolm's weighted blanket follows, curling around him and half hanging on the floor. Gil's hand finds his neck and rubs it. "Anything you need, kid, you got it. I'm gonna sit right here."</p><p>Gil retrieves his book from the end table and sits beside Malcolm on the floor. As much as the sun warms Malcolm's skin, it also threatens to further wake the reptilian beast feasting on his insides. Feed it energy to move beyond its lethargic state. "Come see me," his father's voice repeats.</p><p>The weighted blanket tamps it down, keeps it from growing beyond its confines. "It wasn't a healthy relationship, Gil," Malcolm says after some indeterminate time sunning.</p><p>Gil looks up from the floor. "I know. I'm sorry — it's my fault for bringing you back into it."</p><p>"I can't get rid of him."</p><p>Neither one of them have anything to say to that. But his father has plenty of words — "Come ssssssssssee me."</p><p>The parasite will <em>always</em> be there, inseparable from his flesh without destroying himself. But he doesn't have to listen. He’d rather stay with Gil and figure out how to better manage the next day. In sssilence.</p><p>— ◌◯◌ —</p>
<p></p><div class="note">
  <p>
    <a id="note" name="note"></a>
  </p>
  <p>"My stomach's rebelling against anything that smells like coffee," Dani says when JT points at her energy drink.</p>
  <p>"That can't be any better."</p>
  <p>"No. But it's not as bad coming back up." Stomach acid rising to the back of her throat threatens vomiting, but she has been able to breathe through it to avoid it thus far. She knows the root cause is drinking too much caffeine without anything else — she doesn’t change the behavior either.</p>
  <p>"You want to go home a few hours?"</p>
  <p>She's surprised he bothered asking, as they both know the answer. They both always have the same answer — only Gil stepping in when weariness takes over their whole faces sends them home. Except Gil's not there. JT's technically in charge. She breathes a sigh of relief that an alternative chain of command hasn't kicked in, so they don't have some unknown quantity breathing down their necks. It's bad enough Malcolm's breathing prickles the hairs on the back of her neck, taunting she's spending her days in the precinct instead of witnessing his last breaths.</p>
  <p>"Get any further with the mail contents?" JT asks when she doesn’t reply.</p>
  <p>"Stacks of coupons she definitely didn't need. Catalogues only Bright could afford. Bills. No personal correspondence. One mailer that came from her work."</p>
  <p>"Contents?"</p>
  <p>"Nothing. The one piece that was open."</p>
  <p>"Coulda held one of the books."</p>
  <p>"Coulda held anything. It's not useful without context." Everyone gets packages, and they don’t typically end up part of a police investigation.</p>
  <p>"I have a list of her coworkers that she frequently works with. Since we can't find anyone she's close to in her family, why not go there?" he again broaches the topic they argued about earlier.</p>
  <p>"Can't be any worse than those family phone calls." She’s starting to agree with JT that radio silence means no involvement from Veronica’s family. Whatever their past history, they seemed to have chosen to go their separate ways quite a while back. Popping up now without something prompting the interaction seems unlikely, and cellphone records support no family contact.</p>
  <p>"Brings an entirely new meaning to acquired taste. Split them up?"</p>
  <p>"Then go talk to Gil?" Hopefully enough time has passed since she last mentioned it.</p>
  <p>"Sure." JT hesitates a moment, then says, "There's Tums in the top drawer of Bright's desk if you need 'em. Don't confuse them with the rest of the pharmacy."</p>
  <p>"I think I can spot a Tums." She rolls her eyes. "What have you been in there for?"</p>
  <p>"Got something for him once."</p>
  <p>She nods and walks around to Bright’s desk, retrieving the medicine and making herself a mental note that she'll need to replace it. Everything is lined up neatly — JT wasn't kidding that Bright has a full drug store inside. The only thing that seems out of place is a black Matchbox car that sits in the front of the drawer. She picks it up and spins it between her fingers, admiring the detail on the car doors.</p>
  <p>"Put it back," JT says quickly. "It's important."</p>
  <p>She does as she's told and closes the drawer to stop invading Malcolm's privacy. The car seems out of place for Bright, but she wouldn't put anything past him.</p>
  <p>"It's one of the first things Gil gave him."</p>
  <p>Dani remembers their walk through the sand to get to the beach house, Bright picking up a few interesting rocks along the way and putting them into Gil's palm after he teased him about going for a swim. Perhaps the last things he gave Gil.</p>
  <p>"A side or B side?" JT’s question pulls her back.</p>
  <p>"Only one of us is old enough to remember cassettes," she teases.</p>
  <p>"You get the B side. Have fun talking to her boss."</p>
  <p>"Gee, thanks."</p>
  <p>Opening her email, she takes her half of the list and punches the first number into the phone. <em>Police work is patience</em>, she reminds herself as the phone rings. If the calls go anything like reaching the woman’s family, they're going to need it.</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading. Head back to the <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64588570#workskin">Bookshelf</a> to pick another book. :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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